


The Entourage

by honestys_easy



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Friendship, Los Angeles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-02
Updated: 2007-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestys_easy/pseuds/honestys_easy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This city has taken away everything that made Blake unique, and no one can understand that emptiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Entourage

Blake was in a city so foreign to him, in a world that was made for body-building, golden tan homecoming kings and theater kids. The show? They had cut his spikes, painted them blonde to catch the Midwest demographic and insisted that covering his tattoos would make him seem sophisticated. Indeed, he thought as he finished his beer, Los Angeles was trying to change his very identity.

And he couldn’t be happier anywhere else.

”Dude?” A familiar voice called out to the balcony, Blake recognizing it immediately: Ethan, his closest and longest friend from home, the one who won the bet that caused Blake to audition for the show. “This place is fuckin’ to the nines, man. They really set you up.”

A genuine grin spread across Blake’s face. Ethan, Justin, and Cam had decided to surprise him for the week, bringing a little bit of home to a city that seemed faker every day. The past few days had been the best Blake had in years. Catching up on inside jokes and falling back in step with his close-knit group of friends like no time had passed since the start of the competition. “It ain’t bad,” he said with a chuckle.

Ethan gave a silent inquisitive look – as guy code strictly prohibited the verbal acknowledgement of any kind of emotional conversation – as to why Blake was standing alone on the balcony, in the humid, smog-incensed air of L.A., while a veritable industry festival was going on inside his and Chris’s apartment. Ethan had taken just about as many pictures with celebrities as possible, Cam had gone slightly fanboy over meeting Rudy Cardenas, and Justin was trying to flirt with Phil Stacey’s wife, which, Ethan was sure, would end with hilarious results. The rest of the entourage was fully enjoying the evening – so where was the man of the hour?

Blake shrugged. “Too crowded,” he said sheepishly, knowing it was a poor excuse the minute it left his lips. The truth was, Blake wanted to get Ethan alone, to talk – really talk, without awkwardness and interjected movie quotes. And he knew that if he stood on the balcony, looking sullen, his friend would come out to see what was wrong. “So, dude…what do you think?” Blake held his arms out to the Los Angeles sky that was not a particularly picturesque view, but was more hospitable than the misty rains of Seattle.

“It’s fuckin’ awesome,” Ethan said, taking a swig of his own beer. “I hope you realize we’re expecting to mooch off you for the next four years. It’s written in your contract.”

Shaking his head, Blake pointed towards the interior of the apartment. “No, no, man. I mean, the people. What do you think of them?” Actually, he could care less what Ethan thought of Ryan Seacrest, but there was one…

Ethan nodded. “They’re cool, they’re cool…fucking talented, I’ll give them that.”

Blake nodded vehemently, suddenly very engaged in the conversation. “Yeah…yeah. Really though, right? And Chris…Chris is a fucking fantastic songwriter. You should hear some of his stuff.” Blake winced, hoping that he’d made that transition in the conversation subtle enough for Ethan not to see where this was going.

It seemed to have worked; Ethan nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “He seems cool,” he said. “I mean, if he’s good enough to hang out with B-shorty…” Ethan leaned over to give Blake a playful shove.

“I…I’m so glad you said that,” said Blake, quickly becoming unable to control his elation. Now all he needed to tell him was… “’Cause, well, Chris and I…”

“I mean, he’s okay,” Ethan continued, his own thoughts and the buzz he was carrying causing him to ignore Blake’s last comment. “For a fucking jock.”

Blake jerked to attention, any former trace of a smile draining from his face. “W…what?” he asked incredulously.

Ethan took another long draught, oblivious to the sudden change in his friend’s demeanor. “Compared to the rest of these losers, he’s decent. Well, except that that Jordin girl. Man, what I would do that that…” He held his hands up in front of him to about the width of Jordin’s hips. He looked over to Blake, whose hands were slowly clenching and unclenching into fists in silent displeasure. “Now, you’re completely positive she’s only seventeen, right?”

Blake opened his mouth to speak, but his friend cut him off. “Chris –“

“Don’t even get me started on Friday Night Lights,” he said loudly, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s good you found someone to hang with, but it’s like putting horseradish on white bread; too strong, and too bland. Thank God we came down here just in time, or that fucker’d have you have you shopping at Hollister.” Ethan laughed noisily at his own joke, and didn’t notice at all that Blake wasn’t laughing along with him. “Seriously, dude, that guy is –“

“Ethan, I’m dating him.”

The words brought Ethan’s slurred rant to a dead halt, his eyes open wide, his mouth agape in mid-syllable. Blake held his breath, hands at his sides, dreading what might come next. They stood there on the balcony, alone but for the midnight traffic of Fairfax Boulevard lighting up the distance. Neither of them moved, surrounded by the weight of Blake’s words, until an abrupt laugh came from the balcony door. It was Justin, eyes dancing and bloodshot.

“Hey, guys!” he said, mimicking the infamous commercial. “Tina’s here, we’re getting back together!” He grinned wildly, waiting for the chuckles and jibes from his friends that were an all-too common response for obscure culture references. But instead, he was met by the stony faces of both Ethan and Blake. Justin had the sneaking suspicion that he had intruded upon something important.

Blake spoke first, his voice sounding pained when he did. “Justin…it’s not a good time, dude.” He ran his fingers through his hair, which was much shorter than when he’d left Seattle for the competition. Justin wondered if he had done that on how own, or if someone told him to do it.

Justin looked from Blake’s face to Ethan, and then back again. “What’s…what’s going on?” he asked warily.

“You want to know what’s going on?” Ethan blurted out, addressing Justin but never taking his eyes off Blake. “Our dear friend – bosom buddy – Blake Lewis, is seeing someone, who’s fucking –“

“Ethan!” Blake said sharply, effectively silencing him. Blake looked to Justin again, with a sterner look in his eyes. “Seriously, not a good time right now.”

His words were final and Justin, still slightly confused as to what was going on, backed away leaving the two lifelong friends on the balcony. Ethan was quite ready to continue the silent standoff, but Blake wasn’t so willing. “Ethan, I –“

“It’s not that it’s a dude, Blake and you know it.” Ethan ran a hand through his short red hair, trying to pull the right words out of his muddled mind. “I didn’t have a problem with Mike, or Drew. You know I don’t give a shit about that. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Blake challenged, a veritable bite to his words. God, he loved Ethan, he would always be his closest friend, but if he wouldn’t accept this…

Shaking his head, Ethan continued, the stern look on his friend’s face startling him. “He’s not…typically the type of person you hang around. I bet he listens to pop, R&B…Timberlake shit, right? No offense, dude, but you’re out of his league. You…you can do better.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, Blake stared down his old friend, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I can do better?” he repeated, his voice menacingly low. “You don’t even know what you’re fucking talking about.” He was so angry with Ethan. He wasn’t expecting him to accept Chris with open arms – even Blake could tell that the Virginian wouldn’t fit completely with his old friends and their eccentric ways. But he thought that it would be easier than this.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to even be here?” Blake asked, his voice much softer than before. “Yeah, all you’re seeing are the parties and the fame, this fucking apartment…but they’re destroying me, Ethan. There’s no creative input – I can’t even choose what clothes I wear anymore. I thought…I thought I could mix it up on the show a bit, but all they want is clear fucking vocals and…” Blake stopped himself short and Ethan could see how much it pained him to talk like this. “They cut my hair, man. They cover my tats.”

Ethan stood awkwardly, noting how melancholy the conversation had quickly turned. “I…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Blake sniffled loudly; he didn’t even realize he was on the verge of tears. “And I can’t talk to you about it, or Justin, or Cam. ‘Cause how are you ever going to get how I feel? How the hell could you understand that they’re taking away everything that’s a part of me?”

His voice changed again; a different inflection, Ethan thought, that he had never heard in Blake’s tone before. “But Chris,” he said, instinctively closing his eyes and envisioning the young man. “Chris understands. He gets it. And he’s been here for me, every second of every day. He’s been here…in every way you never could.”

When Ethan spoke, his voice sounded rough and unused. “I didn’t know,” he said. He looked over at Blake, who had turned his back to him, leaning on the railing of the balcony. “I didn’t know any of it…”

A sharp intake of breath – Blake was seething through his teeth, to hide his tears lest they start to fall – and that harsh bite to his voice returned, surprising Ethan. “So don’t you ever, ever, say that we’re not typical.” He threw the word back at him and God, did it sting. “Or that I’m too good for him. Because the truth is, Chris Richardson…is probably better than I ever deserve.”

Blake’s words stunned Ethan and it left him speechless, a low rumble of guilt forming in his gut. He didn’t think he had been so callous or uncaring…but that was his problem, sometimes; he just didn’t think about his words or that they could hurt someone. That they could hurt his best friend.

The creak of the balcony once again broke the heavy silence, but it wasn’t the drunken jubilation of Justin or even Cam that approached the two men. Ethan, facing with his back to the apartment, didn’t turn his head to see who the new arrival was. But from the almost instant softening in Blake’s expression, the traces of a smile starting to form, he didn’t have to.

A low chuckle followed the sound of the door and Ethan closed his eyes, silently hoping that he at least didn’t pop his collar. “Party out here,” the voice said, the timber loosened by alcohol but not nearly as much as Justin’s or even Ethan’s. Ethan finally turned to face the man, who seemed to be the very antithesis of what he and his friends were about. If anything was sucking out Blake’s identity, it was being with Chris.

But if he made his best friend happy, he wasn’t going to say a word about it. Ethan took a deep breath, “Hey, Chris.” 

Chris noticed the thickness of the air between the two friends, the distance between them. He looked from Blake to Ethan – his eyes rested on Ethan, flashing, challenging. “Everything cool out here?”

“Yeah,” Blake said, a little too loudly to be convincing. He stifled a sniffle, holding back tears. “We’re fine.”

The waver in his voice immediately made Chris think otherwise. He strode over to Blake with purposeful steps, passing just inches from Ethan yet leaving no warmth for the man in his wake. It was clear to the redhead that he wasn’t the only one trying to protect Blake Lewis’s best interests.

A comforting arm draped across Blake’s shoulders; a casual gesture by anyone else, except when Chris did it. Blake leaned into the touch, resting his head slightly on Chris’s shoulder in silent thanks – thanks for diffusing this situation, thanks…for everything. “Everything cool out here?” Chris asked again, his eyes boring into Ethan, his set jaw and strong protective arms clearly marking his territory. He was daring Ethan to challenge him, to force a side.

But he underestimated Ethan and his care for his friend over a superficial image. “As a cucumber,” he responded with a smirk. He leaned over closing the gap among them – the old friend, the best friend, the lover. With a lighter heart, Ethan reached over and shook Chris’s hand, not as a sign of resignation, but of friendship. And as Chris’ own tough front quickly melted to Ethan, a genuine smile spread over Blake’s face, alight with the illumination of Los Angeles.


End file.
